


Duty Calls

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Homeward Bound [Part 2] [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Choking, Detective Stiles, Dom Stiles, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Rough Sex, Sex, Slavery, Sub Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 23:44:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3359744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was almost a year to the day of Peter Hale’s execution. Almost a year since scandal and chaos broke out, and over two dozen of Peter’s associates were taken down. Almost a year since Were Trafficking became the most talked about topic on everything, and a doe-eyed werewolf with the sweetest smile became article fodder for every reporter seeking a human interest piece. It was almost a year since Scott and Stiles moved back in together, properly. There had been good days and bad days, but their peace couldn't last forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duty Calls

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 of [Homeward Bound](http://archiveofourown.org/series/94784)

It was almost a year to the day of Peter Hale’s execution. Almost a year since scandal and chaos broke out, and over two dozen of Peter’s associates were taken down. Almost a year since Were Trafficking became the most talked about topic on everything, and a doe-eyed werewolf with the sweetest smile became article fodder for every reporter seeking a human interest piece. It was almost a year since Scott and Stiles moved back in together, properly. 

There had been good days and bad days. Mostly good ones, spent tangled together, relearning each other. They treasured all the ways they’d stayed the same, and loved all the ways they hadn’t. It was laughably easy, like they hadn’t lost a decade. To Stiles, it was too much like finding a piece of himself he hadn’t realized was gone, a piece he’d never really been able to live without. There were bad days, sometimes. In a small town where everyone knew your name, there was no hiding what Scott was. It was too late to tell everyone he was a werehamster. Bigots never went away, and the threat of Eichen House hung over both their heads. Sometimes Stiles took longer to come home.

Things were quiet now. The Werewolf Operations Unit of the Beacon Hills Police Department had gotten a funding boost, and even if that just meant a new squishy office chair, Stiles would take it. In a couple of years, someone might do a ‘Where Are They Now’ piece on Scott; maybe even sooner if Were Trafficking turned into a big issue during the next election cycle. Life was good. Life went on. 

They were supposed to meet for lunch just because they could, and Stiles was feeling particularly cherry-pie-y. The detective was thinking about catching the late showing of a movie, the new one with all the mustaches, or maybe putting off a little more paperwork so he could get home early. Then someone he wasn’t expecting took the seat across from him. Tall and austere, with the air of someone who liked being told he was right, the man was everything Stiles hated about federal agents and more.

"Get the fuck out of here. The answer’s still no."

"Detective Stilinski-"

"No. Do I have to spell it out for you? Do you need it in Spanish?  _No.”_

The man’s patience was thinning, Stiles could see it on his face, but the brunette had an advantage. Stiles had no patience to begin with.

"Stilinski, given your circumstance, you’re uniquely suited for this position, and the FBI wouldn’t be making this offer if it wasn’t big. You get a chance to make a difference for something you obviously have stakes in, and there’s a lot riding on this."

"Where the Hell were you when they needed you? Or was giving a damn too inconvenient?"

Rafael McCall glared at him like he wanted to rip out his throat. Stiles didn’t care. He had to get him the fuck out of here before the McCall he wanted to see showed up.

"Get the fuck out of my sight. You don’t talk to me. You don’t talk to him, and if I see you outside work at all -" Stiles didn’t know yet, but he knew that the man in front of him made him nauseous.

___

Life had changed in a year and Scott still couldn’t believe sometimes how far he’d come. He’d wake up in the middle of the night in his bed, in his home with Stiles snoring in his face. Meals didn’t come with a price, kindness wasn’t something to be earned and safety wasn’t a forgotten concept. He had both the gentle touches he needed and the sharp edged desire he craved, Stiles so generous with both. It was good, life was  _good_.

There were still days where he slipped and the wolf rode too close to the skin, but he was working on his control. Scott never missed his mandated therapy sessions, he put in the work like he was supposed to and started seeing results. He was slowly relearning what it meant to be human and how to navigate inside of their rules so he could keep all the things that were important to him. There were days where people would try to provoke him, there was still a risk some hunter or zealot could take a shot and there were days the monitoring bracelet around his anklet felt clunky. He kept moving forward, smiling more than he used to and treasuring each hard won piece of his life. More often than not, Stiles could find him at home dozing in the sliver of warm afternoon light, face pointed towards the glass window like a sunflower.

The job helped and Deaton was incredibly patient. It was a surprise for Scott to realize that his skill with skittish animals somehow applied to a certain type of liberal minded human who appreciated him for his bright grin and his soft spoken words. And the way his arms looked in a tank top, but he just made polite excuses and fled whenever that happened. It was a life and it was his, it was more than he ever thought was possible. Even if there were scars left behind, Peter Hale was dead and freedom was an exhilarating, terrifying experience. The past was behind him, all that was left was moving forward.

Or, at least he thought.

Scott froze as he entered the diner, recognizing the tall graying man with a jolt like being doused in ice water. The FBI agent caught the movement and almost smiled, unsure and hesitant before falling back on the safety of professionalism.

“Scott.”

“Dad.”

“You look…” Rafe sighed with regret and apologies he’d never say. “…older. Are you, have you been okay?”

“That tends to happen. And no, not really. It’s been a long time since I was okay.” Scott couldn’t keep the bitterness from creeping into his voice. “But shit happens. I handled it.”

“Scott, I’m sorry. You know I looked for you and your moth-”

“No.” The wolf snapped sharply. “You don’t get to talk about her. You don’t get to say anything about her. You left us both years before we even knew what I was and she stayed with me right until the end. It’s too late, you’re not allowed to make excuses about it. What are you even doing here?”

The Agent squared his shoulders, every inch the federal man. “Working on a case. Stilinski, just consider the offer. You know how much is on the line here. Scott, it was…good seeing you.”

___

"Funny. Seeing you always makes me nauseous."

There was no love lost between Stiles and Scott’s sperm donor. The man didn’t have it in him to be a proper human being, let alone any type of father. He remembered the first time he came across Rafael McCall, on a case instead of in the daily obituaries. It was back when he had too much at stake to risk talking back. He still asked him where he’d been. The answer never was ‘with his son.’

He pushed past the agent, wrapping a possessive arm around his mate’s waist and dragging him to the exit. Stiles had never been shy about affection in public, but now his fingers dug into Scott’s hip like he was trying to bruise him through his jeans. There were in a small town where gossip spread faster than the flu, and Stiles didn’t want to deal with them or force Scott to listen to them right now. 

Stiles could understand the aggressive bigots and the close-minded cowards who turned their back on his best friend. He’d never sympathize with them, never think of them as anything more than shoe paste, but he understood them. He could never understand how anyone could turn their back on the bravest, kindest people Stiles ever knew after being accepted into their family. 

He shoved Scott against the Jeep and when he kissed him it was all teeth. He was panting when he pulled away, open-mouthed and tired, but his grip had only tightened. Stiles gave a total of zero fucks to any possible voyeurs.

"Was thinking about getting take out anyway."

___

Scott was grateful that Stiles pulled him out of the diner, unsure how to handle the man who used to be his father. Rafael had left when he was just a kid, it was his very first glimpse at how ugly and terrible the world could be. He didn’t remember much about it now, just a lot of yelling, the smell of booze, and his mother crying. He’d escaped as often as he could, fleeing to Stiles’s house and pretending that his family was normal. Just because you loved someone didn’t mean they had the ability to love you back. It was a hard lesson to learn.

The wolf gasped into Stiles’s mouth, a small whine of pain as he pushed harder against the shark bite kiss. His eyes were so dark and it took effort to pull himself back from the edge. They were in public, it probably wasn’t the best place to cause a scene. The less attention they drew to themselves, the better it would be for everyone. He didn’t need the doctors from Eichen House asking any more probing questions about his personal life.

“Take out is good.” Scott murmured. “I like private anyways.” He’d been getting better at handling crowds, but too many humans shoved in a single space still made him nervous. “Stiles, what was he doing here? What kind of case would make him talk to you?”  _Why didn’t he come find me sooner?_  He’d been free from Peter for almost a year, if Rafael had cared at all, he should have come to visit. Scott doubted he even noticed when he and his mother had gone missing.

___

Stiles’s lips felt the good sort of tingly. They never stopped seeking Scott’s. He rested his forehead against his mate’s, letting out a shaky exhale as he gathered him into his arms. This was dumb. This was the opposite of private, but Stiles just needed a moment to put his face all over Scott’s. ”Get in the car, loser.”

They were halfway down the street before Stiles spoke. He’d taken his time driving, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the inside of his best friend’s thigh, running his fingers along the seam of his jeans. It was probably a good thing that traffic was light.

It had been a trying few weeks at work, and Rafael McCall was a lot more familiar than the detective would have ever liked. The FBI had stumbled across something big, a nation-wide trafficking ring that criss-crossed state-lines, with influence that reached opposite coasts. It demanded a huge inter-agency task force. It shouldn’t have been Stiles’s business at all. No one was willing to tell him anything other than how incredibly impressive and hush-hush their jobs were, but the drug and human traffickers had close ties with something right up his alley. A werewolf fighting ring, possibly the largest one in North America. They needed someone to infiltrate it.

They needed someone with a unique skillset - and a trainer.

"Been asking myself the same thing. I thought saying ‘I don’t want anything to do with your shit, fuck off’ meant dropping a case." He threw a glance Scott’s way, expression crumbling too easily, and Stiles tucked his face into the other man’s neck. kissing the warm skin there. "Has he been bothering you?"

___

“He hasn’t done anything to me. He hasn’t even  _seen_ me.” He could barely remember the last time he’d seen his father, maybe he was 13 or 14 years old? Rafael McCall had always been better with a birthday card or Christmas present than showing up himself. It was easier to play ‘Dad’ when he could do it from a distance. When he was younger it used to hurt, but Scott had eventually learned to accept the disappointment. Some people just weren’t cut out to be parents.

Scott ran his hand down his human’s arm, the touch always helped settle him. Doctor Tate still didn’t officially approve of their relationship, but she used it to teach the wolf techniques to help control himself. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but she accepted it as a stepping stone for Scott to relearn his humanity. Once he was more stable, they could reevaluate his extreme and unhealthy co-dependence with the officer.

There was only one reason that Rafe would come here and look for Stiles. There were plenty of cops in the world, tracking down the one who hated him most spoke volumes. He couldn’t imagine his father would take that sort of risk unless there the case he was working on was something personal. “It’s about me, isn’t it? My Dad’s working on something about me.” Why would he suddenly care now when it was too late? His old Master was dead and he was free, there wasn’t anything more to investigate. Scott had played his part and told the police everything he knew, they were done with that life. “Is there something wrong? Is it about…is it Peter?”

___

"No - no. It’s nothing. He’s dead and gone." Stiles insisted, but he couldn’t stop the way his shoulders slumped in relief. Stiles was surprised by how angry seeing Rafael with Scott had made him. The asshat had disappeared when they needed him the most and had the audacity to return once he wanted something. Scott had already given too much to too many other people. Stiles leaned over and kissed his mate again. No one was taking him away from their home.

"Let me handle it." Stiles pleaded. "I promise - it’s got nothing to do with that bastard. You’re free… We’re okay." Stiles hadn’t been able to protect his best friend before. He wasn’t making that mistake again.

He had no idea how seriously the FBI took this case.

The car behind them started to honk. “I think I’m not going back to work today.” Stiles decided, aggressively chipper.

___

Scott nodded, settling back in a worried silence. That didn’t really answer anything, even if Peter was dead there had to be some reason his father was looking for Stiles. He couldn’t find any other reason why Rafe would go to all this trouble to get help on a case unless he didn’t have any other options. He twitched at the sudden sound of the horn behind them, huffing in irritation at the other driver. "Stiles, if he’s here because of something about me, I want you to tell me. This isn’t just a job thing, he’s my  _Dad_. Sort of. He used to be Dad. If he’s here, then it’s because he wants something from us specifically. He wouldn’t have come all this way to face me now unless it was important.” The wolf shifted in his seat, studying Stiles’s face with a frown. He didn’t want to push, there were things that his friend did in his job that he didn’t want to talk about. He wore the stress like armor and Scott did his best to heal the wounds and listen without demanding answers. But there were some things that needed a little force. “What’s the case?”

___

Stiles didn’t answer immediately, huffing out an annoyed, immature little sound that he used to whenever Scott beat him at Pokemon or Speed or anything really. Normally it only spurred his best friend to keep winning, but Stiles was halfway to grinding his teeth right out of his skull. They pulled into a McDonalds, and there was no way the take-out menu deserved as much concentration as Stiles was giving it.

Scott had come so far. They built a life together. They’d found each other. They’d fought for each other and won, and against all odds, they were looking at a future together. Stiles wasn’t happy with everything. It was no secret that he only tolerated Isaac because of his best friend or that he hated needing to sign fifteen different forms before they could think of spending a day at the beach, but none of that really mattered. Nothing could beat down how much progress Scott had made, and nothing could convince Stiles to put his life in danger after he’d finally gotten a chance at peace.

But Scott asked.

Lying to his best friend wasn’t an option anymore. 

Three Big Macs, a plate of chicken nuggets, and a ton of fries later, he asked, “Do you know anything about fight rings? Not just Rule One.” 

___

“Fighting rings.” Scott said flatly, face a blank mask. “You’re not talking about pro wrestling, I assume.” There was always a hopeful little chance it could be something else.

He’d lived and breathed the underground rings for years, a bloody, brutal pastime for people with too much money and no heart. Peter wanted a pet, but he also cared about pride. Having a wolf was dangerous and expensive, he could have picked anyone to warm his bed. He didn’t need someone with fangs to grovel at his feet beyond the ego boost of controlling something so powerful. Peter wanted prestige, he wanted to show the others in his world exactly how powerful the Hales were. For that, he needed a winner.

Scott wasn’t sure how many fights he’d been in, they all blurred together after a while. He was vicious in the ring. Technically, most matches were blood fights since no one wanted to lose such an expensive investment, but rules didn’t always hold. Scott fought to kill, anything less would get  _him_  killed. Usually they separated the wolves before one died, but there had been enough times that blood ran from his lips and his opponent lay still at his feet. He’d been good at it. In some uncomfortable, primal way, he’d enjoyed it. There was something almost freeing about letting the wolf take over so completely.

“That’s what he wants your help with?”

___

There was once a time when they were so close, Stiles was convinced he was psychic. He would tell his best friend about how he’d managed to change Mr. Miller’s mind, so he kept his mean dog inside his house, or how he jinxed the lunch lady to give him extra helpings of dessert, and how he made his toys float around his head and fight each other. His powers never helped on the courtyard when a round of dodge ball was going, but they were still there because he could read Scott’s mind. He got Scott before the other boy needed to open his mouth, so in sync, they developed their own language. Sure, most of it was stolen from Morse Code, but the way Scott looked at him when Stiles said he designed it just for them was enough to make his heart burst with pride.

Those days were long gone, but Stiles still wanted to do everything in his power to make his best friend smile.

He buried Scott in fried food, kissing him on the mouth to the dismay of the cashier, but they were almost home. They could put Rafe McCall and all his bullshit behind them soon.

"We’re not gonna do anything. I already told him no. This doesn’t change anything."

Stiles glared when the cashier cleared his throat, and all but flew into traffic. Keeping them alive kept him preoccupied.

"They want an inside man."

___

“They want you.” Scott went completely still, holding his breath. An undercover operation, of course they’d want someone like Stiles. He knew more about wolves and the network of poachers and owners than anyone else. His dedication to finding  _him_  had made the officer an expert. If there was anyone who could navigate that world, it would have to be Stiles.

But it would be dangerous and who knew how long a case could take. If it was complicated enough, Stiles might have to be gone for weeks, months maybe. There was no way the doctors at Eichen House would allow Scott to stay in their home without supervision, he’d have to go back to the facility until Stiles was finished with his investigation. The wolf had never really been away from his best friend since they’d been reunited and even the thought tightened his throat in panic.

Scott’s fingers worried the fast food bag. He wasn’t sure he was ready to be alone, but he knew first hand what it was like to be trapped by those people. Stiles was their best chance at escape and selfishly trying to keep his friend meant that innocent people would have to suffer. He couldn’t be the reason that people lived in chains, not after everything he survived. “If you can help them, then you have to do it. This is what you are, I’ll be okay.”

___

_Scott McCall._

Stiles’s heart hurt, and in that moment, he couldn’t understand how much he loved his best friend. There was no word for it, nothing that could explain the rush of affection that threatened to drown him. It was like trying to describe color to the blind, and they were pulled over by the road before Stiles could realize what he did. He yanked Scott closer by the collar of his shirt, but when their mouths pressed together, it was careful. Sweet, but thorough. Stiles took everything he could and nothing could stop him.

His seat belt was pulled taut against his chest, and the arm rest dug into his hip, but he just needed to touch his partner. His courageous, wonderful kind Scott.

"I’m not going anywhere." Stiles murmured. "End of story. Okay, dude? Don’t argue with me on this. I don’t want that job. They’ll figure something else out. I just want you… You’re the bravest guy I know, Scott. You know that?"

He wiggled in place, smile impossibly fond and Stiles dropped a kiss to the corner of Scott’s mouth. “Now feed me fries. Hey maybe we can do dinner tonight with Ally and Kira.”

___

The sudden show of affection was a surprise, but always welcome. The need to touch Stiles hummed through his nerves like a low level craving, always there in the back of his mind. He usually didn’t even notice when he drifted closer as they bumped around their home or were out in public, drawn together like magnets. Knees would touch when they sat together, arms brushing against each other, tiny reassurances that the other was still here and still real.

He kissed back, eager and gentle in the most awkward position as he twisted his body across the center console. “You can’t stop doing your job because you’re worried about me.” Scott said, pushing gently. He knew his best friend well, now that the officer had found the object of his search, he’d hold on tightly if he thought Scott needed him. The wolf never wanted to be the thing holding him back. “You have me, you know that. You’re the hero, Stiles, and right now other people need you just like I did. I’ll be okay, I want you to try and save them if you can.”

Scott plucked one fry and brought it to Stiles’s lips before yanking it back and popping it into his own mouth with a grin.  “You want to invite them over? I can make something…with a salad.”

___

"You’re so stubborn. What part of ‘end of story’ didn’t you get," Stiles huffed, rolling his eyes in exaggerated annoyance, even if there was nothing exaggerated about his claim. It was encouraging though, to have Scott argue with him again. This time last year, Stiles wasn’t sure he could convince his best friend to ever change his mind. He still grabbed a handful of fries and distracted himself.

"It’s not that simple."

Driving home was an excuse again. Stiles used more concentration licking the salt off of his fingers than he needed to. Back when he was starting out, or even just a month before crashing into Peter Hale’s life, this was the sort of assignment Stiles dreamed of. There would probably be months in the field, and the chance to really immerse himself in a world that both disgusted and fascinated him. He’d have jumped at the chance, anything to increase his odds of finding his best friend. Things had changed now, for the better. Stiles had more to lose than he could gain, and at the core, they both knew he was more selfish.

Full disclosure. He didn’t lie to Scott, not anymore. They were always partners.

"They want you to come, too. That’s not a risk I can take."

Stiles was almost too happy to see their home.

___

“Oh.”

So that was why his Dad was involved. Was Rafael McCall really so willing to risk his son’s life or leverage his years in hell to help his career? Being captured and tortured, having his mother murdered wasn’t enough to motivate his father to get involved, but now that he could use Scott as an asset he finally came to visit? Typical. Scott thought it was impossible to be any more hurt or disappointed by his father and apparently he was wrong.

Even with his father’s ambitions, there were lives at stake. It made sense that to break into the exclusive and elite group of owners that Stiles would need a wolf at his heel. They were powerful people, rich and ruthless. They valued their privacy and access was strictly controlled. Keeping such an exotic pet came with risks and they didn’t trust anyone who wasn’t a part of their world. Proving you were one of them would be key.

_He couldn’t go back, he couldn’t do that again. He could practically feel the blood between his claws and the taste of sweat and flesh on his lips. Everything was always so loud, there were just too many people and the way the other wolves would look at him with wide dead eyes- He couldn’t breathe like this, he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t…_

Scott had always been an expert liar and the years had only honed his skills. “I want to do it.”

___

"Bullshit."

Stiles sent Scott a withering look, and grabbed everything he could carry out of their car. Definitely, definitely not going back into work after this. He almost believed Scott. That was a problem. Stiles expected a certain answer and wouldn’t accept anything else. He didn’t know if it was even possible for Scott to make that call. There was no way he’d put his best friend in that much danger. There was no way he’d make his best friend relieve his nightmares.

It took Stiles three tries to get the key to their front door in, features drawn unhappily. It had been a while since his arm twinged. Physical therapy had done its job, and even if the scars would never go away, they stopped hurting. Scott hadn’t woken him in the middle of the night in a while, rare enough now that an episode gave him pause.

Busying himself with his coat and shoes, the detective pretended he cared more about everything other than the one thought that threatened to burst through his skull. It didn’t work.

"What am I gonna do if I lose you again?" It was selfish and  _young._  But Stiles couldn’t risk it. The world was filled with other people and their problems, but Stiles had a home now. Stiles had everything he thought he’d ever wanted, but it was so much better than anything he could have dreamed of. “I can’t take that risk. I don’t care if that means I’m not a hero or fucking whatever. I just… I can’t, Scott. Didn’t we give up enough?”

___

As soon as he stepped through his doorway, Scott almost breathed a sigh of relief. The rowan wood pressed down around him with a comfortable weight, like wrapping his animal instinct in a wool blanket. It was still there, but muffled in the back of his mind. Everything smelled like them, their scents mingled over every inch of the place. Scott had left his book open on the couch again, his shoes kicked off by the door, his sweatpants and socks left on the floor where he’d dropped them this morning. His life was written in this place now, a hundred meaningless little signs of domesticity.

Scott dropped the rest of the greasy bags on the counter and scooped up his clothes, tossing them back into the bedroom. As much as he loved his freedom, things always felt better at home. “You’re not gonna lose me.” He moved to corner the other man against the kitchen island, hands gently curling around the back of Stiles’s neck. “You spent your whole life wanting to do this because you wanted to save people. You can’t give up on them because of me. Besides, if I’m with you, then at least I’ll have your back if something goes wrong. I know what these people are going through, if there’s anything we can do to help them, we have to.”

The thought of giving up his hard won safety was terrifying, but was it worse to spend all that time alone back in Eichen House and just hoping Stiles came home? His best chance at coming back in one piece was if he had backup, someone who knew how to navigate that world. That alone was worth the risk, if they could save people, then that was an added bonus. “Just think about it. You don’t have to decide right now.”

___

It was so easy to reach out and pull his mate closer, hands tracing down Scott’s chest and wrapping around his slender waist. Stiles’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, teasing the strip of bare skin that peaked just beneath worn cotton. His forehead rested against Scott’s, and if Stiles leaned closer, he knew he could kiss his best friend. He never wanted to leave.

"I took this job to save you. I wanted to find you for the longest time, and sometimes… I thought I was too late." Maybe that wasn’t everything, but Scott had turned into a dream, the sweetest prize and the only thing that got Stiles out of bed on some days, the memory of a sweet boy with a big heart and a wicked smile that only Stiles ever got to see. Stiles had abandoned him once. He wouldn’t let himself make the same mistake twice. The detective tried to tell himself that there was no point in being a hero if it meant losing those he cared most about. 

Stiles remembered when Scott used to fret when asked where he wanted to go for dinner, back when choices were an intimidating luxury and the world seemed so big. The little things always caught him off-guard, the way Scott had specialty dishes now, how easy his smile came nowadays, the growing pile of things in Stiles’s house that weren’t his.

"What we got’s really good now, Scott. Really good. Why’d you wanna throw it away?" He kissed Scott hard, like he wanted to bruise his pretty mouth, sucking on the soft swell of his lower lip until the wolf shivered against him. Stiles’s voice lowered, gravel rough and just shy of wicked. "Remember what you asked me? Almost a year ago… Remember you wanted to get married?"

___

Scott loved this place in between, sharing the same breath and close enough to kiss but holding back so they could just exist together. His lips curved into a smile and he closed his eyes to listen to the sound of their heartbeats, always struggling to find the same rhythm.

“You did save me.” If Stiles hadn’t found him, he might have been dead or worse. Probably worse. There were so many days where death seemed like the only way that the misery would end, though he never seemed to find the ability to go through with it. Hope could be a dangerous thing and it had wormed so deeply into his chest that Scott had dug in his claws and held on long enough to be rescued. Eleven years had left its mark, seven under Peter’s hand. Somehow Scott had forced himself to survive long enough to be rescued.

He was still not okay, the word “okay” had to be redefined. The things he’d lived through had marked him and even as he healed, there were things that could never be the way they were again. He was always anxious, always trying to keep himself in control. There were animal reflexes instead of human logic and so much trauma to process. Doctor Tate had said that the goal was for more good days than bad, she’d never approve of this plan. His progress was a fragile thing and there was a real chance he could shatter. But Scott would rather take the risk than ever have Stiles face danger alone.

He moaned into the human’s mouth, body tensing with sudden need. “I don’t want to throw anything way, I still want all of that. I want a real life with you but… You saved me because you were looking for me, who’s looking for them?”

___

"Someone else?" Stiles answered, and knew that was a lie. They couldn’t depend on people like Agent McCall, people who would feel around for a promotion before doing anything worthwhile. It still left a bitter coil in the center of his chest, and worry came too easily when Stiles knew how good they had it.

"I already said no. Why’d you gotta be a damn hero, Scott?" Except the detective’s tone was impossibly fond. He didn’t think it was possible to love Scott more, but his best friend always managed to pull another trick that had him falling head over heels, and walking straight was overrated anyway. Because Scott was the hero. He’d saved Isaac, in a situation where most people would have been too caught up with their own suffering to think about looking out for anyone else. Scott had to give up so much that defined him, but against all odds, he could still manage some kindness. Maybe it was just for survival, but Scott never stopped looking out for his pack.

"Can’t we just stay home an’ I’ll eat all your fries, and maybe your ass if you ask nicely." Stiles dragged his nails across Scott’s lower back, pushing the other man even closer. It was almost playful, like he could take the edge off what he said next. "I don’t want you to kill again."

___

The wolf’s mouth quirked in a rueful and destructive smile. He’d break himself trying to save others, he would push his friend to give more and Stiles was the one to hold him back. They kept each other in balance, it was nice to feel that way again. Scott stroked his fingers through the back of his human’s hair in easy, gentle scratches. The truth was, he  _wanted_  to stay in their home and hide with his best friend. They could watch the world from their windows, sun soaked and tangled with each other. It was safer that way if they could barricade the world from intruding in. Once he wouldn’t have been so afraid of doing the right thing.

But he hadn’t seen the sun in seven years and even though it was painfully bright and dangerous, he craved its warmth. He couldn’t just shut everything else out anymore, getting better wasn’t supposed to be easy and he’d never make any progress without a fight. He could lose everything he ever wanted for strangers who might not even appreciate freedom when it was thrust upon them, but Scott knew all too well what that life could do to someone. He could face this, he could help. If he could save more people like him, then those years couldn’t touch him anymore and he wouldn’t have to be afraid.

“So don’t let me kill. Most fights aren’t to the death, you don’t want to risk your pets. There’s not many of us, we’re not easy to catch and harder to train. They’ll stop me before it goes too far.” Maybe. Usually. He didn’t know how to fight unless it was life or death and accidents happened all the time. If he went back, he could be the one torn open in the ring. He did not want to do this, he didn’t want to live through this again. Scott wasn’t even sure he could hold together long in that place before he broke, but he was not going to be the one to hold Stiles back.

Instead he smiled and leaned forward to kiss his best friend. “I had you, they don’t have anyone. It could have been me.”

___

Stiles’s expression crumbled, giving into the kiss. It was always so easy for Scott to convince him. Growing up, people had always underestimated the polite boy with the sunshine smile, but Stiles recognized his best friend as the wickedest conspirator he’d ever know. The ideas might have always come from Stiles, but he never would have gone as far as he had without his partner in crime egging him on. He’d done so much to impress Scott, to answer every dare, start every adventure. Except the time he licked the swing set, that was all on Stiles. Some things never changed. 

He rested his head on Scott’s shoulder, hiding jagged scars that crisscrossed his face against his sleeve. They made Stiles look older. People treated him different because of it, like they needed proof of how far he’d come. Every time he looked into the mirror, he saw a reminder of how desperately they fought for what they had. He didn’t need more.

"Remember when you told me you wouldn’t let yourself get hurt? How’re you gonna do that?" 

Stiles murmured, but he carefully ran his hands up and down the younger man’s chest, carefully peeling back his shirt, pressing close before his mate could get the chance to miss him. Anyone who’d been in a long-term relationship could tell you that agreements weren’t only settled with words.

___

“I dunno.” He was honest. This was a dangerous idea, probably the worst plan they could come up with, but they’d need a wolf who could fight or the whole case would stall. Someone had to stand up and take the risk, even if they’d already risked too much. Doing the right thing really sucked sometimes. Scott cupped his human’s face, tracing his thumbs gently over scarred skin and smiled.

He was afraid, he wasn’t going to lie about it but he wasn’t sure he could live with himself knowing he could have done something to save the other wolves and had let them suffer. He and Stiles had survived the worst the world could through at them, what was one more risk? Scott shivered as his shirt was slipped from his frame, lunch suddenly forgotten. This was a distraction, he knew Stiles’s tricks, but it was a  _good_  distraction.

The wolf nuzzled his nose against the side of Stiles’s face. All of his scars had healed, there wasn’t anything on the surface to show what a mess had been left beneath. He used to think it was unfair that everything that had happened to him would just disappear like it had never existed. All except the shallow scar under his eye from an indoor lacrosse match with his best friend gone wrong. “It’s your choice. I’ll take the risk if I can with you.” He hooked his fingers into the waistband of the human’s pants, holding him captive.

___

"You make it sound like I  _have_  a choice.” Stiles snarled, voice dragging over a vicious growl, but he pulled his mate closer, until Scott was barely clinging to the table, making him jut his hips just to keep balance. Put himself on display. Slender fingers curled around the wolf’s throat, forcing him into a kiss that left his lips red and shiny. Stiles couldn’t stop touching, mapping out every inch of his mate’s skin, trying to commit everything to memory. Stiles was drugged on the jagged hitch of his breath, the way his skin flushed red all the way down his chest. 

His hands traced over Scott’s flank, scratching down his belly. Stiles wrestled him out of his clothes, ignoring everything once he could wrap his fingers around his cock. It was rough and fast, a little too demanding, but Stiles couldn’t care as he covered his wolf’s throat in bruises that bloomed in purple and red. Scott was thick and heavy in his hand, and he was so responsive, always so vocal and Stiles loved it.

"I’m the only one who gets to do this," Stiles rasped, his head spinning too fast to care that it might be cruel to suggest it. That didn’t change. Scott was his and he was never letting go. 

If this was a distraction, it was his favorite one.

___

People made deals with the devil for far less than this and it was so hard to hang on to his argument when the officer  _pushed_. A part of him wanted to slide down to his knees and beg, the other part wanted to fight back until he was forced down, rough hands claiming and taking without asking. Scott’s throat already burned, a slight ache of bruised delicate skin. He always wished they could keep for longer. He couldn’t keep the scars of his past to show that he’d survived and he couldn’t keep the marks that branded him as Stiles. Sometimes he wished he could carry the scars for his human, wear each uneven line carved in flesh and every uneven bone that never managed to heal quite the same. Maybe he could look into tattooing Stiles’s mark somewhere on his body, it might make him feel more settled when he couldn’t wear anything else to show he belonged.

Scott nodded shakily, already panting through parted lips. Stiles could do anything he pleased, there was no one else allowed to touch. The possessiveness made the wolf shudder and he thrust himself slowly against Stiles’s hand. “Just you.” He said, licking his lips and tightening his grip on the counter. “Only you.”

___

His Scott, his brave, vicious, brilliant wolf with a bleeding heart and the sweetest smile. He was perfect for Stiles, everything the detective had ever dreamed of, and everything he shouldn’t be allowed to keep. They were codependent to a fault. Stiles couldn’t imagine a life without his best friend, or a future where Scott wasn’t by his side. He was going to ruin him, drag him back down to somewhere dark and terrible all in the name of being heroes. Scott’s heart was finally going to be the death of him, but - but Stiles wasn’t going to let go. And Scott gave him courage.

He stroked down the long line of Scott’s body, over the tense coil of strong muscle. The wolf held himself in place like it was nothing, but he had the prettiest blush. Stiles leaned forward so he could taste it on his tongue.

"I’m the only one who can see you like this." He warned, fingers twisting in his mate’s hair, forcing his head back. Stiles watched greedily as Scott’s throat bobbed with each gulp of air, sweat dripping down the long column of his throat. He licked off each drop. He spread Scott’s legs until the wolf whimpered under the strain, making space for himself to slot into place, grinding his hips against his mate’s. Their cocks bumped together, friction rough and erratic, as Stiles traced the soft skin between the other man’s thighs, squeezing his balls and working his way into that tight, hot entrance.

"I’m the only one who can touch you. I’m the only one who gets to claim you. You’re mine, Scott. Every inch of you. Gonna make you feel so good, baby."

___

It did feel so good with his head forced back, baring his throat for Stiles’s mouth. The moment of surrender was always heady, so much better now that he actually wanted it. There was a trust that he’d never had with anyone else, he could give up every thought and every fear and lose himself in the need to please his human. With anyone else it would have been terrifying, but with Stiles it was freedom. All he wanted was to please his master, he was so lucky that Stiles wanted to make him enjoy it too.

“Y-yours.” He gasped the word, rutting against Stiles in a desperate search for friction. The angle wasn’t enough for him as he rubbed his cock against the human’s stomach, precum beading from his slit. Scott kept his hands on the counter to keep himself upright even if he wanted nothing more than to wrap his hand tight around his cock. “I’m yours! I don’t want anyone else, just you, Stiles. Please!” He begged shamelessly, choking on his own tongue as the human teased against his most vulnerable parts.

No one else ever got to touch him like this, he was owned body and soul. There wasn’t anyone else who could give him exactly what he needed like Stiles could, no one could bring him to his knees so quickly. Scott never wanted anyone else’s hands on him and it was a comforting feeling. If they risked themselves, Stiles would never share. Scott whined, rocking forward to try and force Stiles deeper. “Make me yours.”

___

Scott was so good at taking his breath away. He was a work of art, something that ought to be displayed and worshiped, except Stiles never wanted anyone else to his mate like this. Scott’s mouth was so sweet. 

He slicked up his fingers with lube, pressing in rudely where the wolf was sensitive and raw, working him open too fast, too rough. “I should keep you plugged up. Keep you open for me all day, whenever I want. I’ll bend you over, fuck you in the streets. Let everyone see. Let them hear you beg for it.”

Scott felt like velvet around him, clenched tight and impossibly hot. The human wanted to drag every broken whimper, every strangled plea he could out of his mate. When he thrust in, Scott bore down on him, and Stiles couldn’t bite back a groan. He coaxed his wolf closer, panting into his mouth and sucking on his tongue, swallowing down a desperate moan. “But I’m the only one who can have you, Scotty. You’re so good for me.” 

___

The wolf’s entire body jolted forward, shivering at the mix of pain and pleasure as he was roughly used. It was  _almost_  too much, straddling that line until Scott’s head spun with need. Vicious love at its best, clawed backs and bruised kisses that left him feeling weak. His jaw dropped at the threat and he made a broken sound of agreement, nodding eagerly. Wearing their collar beneath his clothes was always his secret. On the worst days at work when stress and strangers made the anxiety crawl up his spine, having the collar made him feel more secure. He was owned, he was wanted and when he got home, he would be fucked until he screamed. Not even Dr. Tate knew about the habit, she probably wouldn’t approve. She never did.

The thought of Stiles plugging him, trying to get through the day with something deep inside and waiting for the call to let Stiles take him whenever he chose made the wolf shiver and moan. Oh god, he wanted it so badly. Scott couldn’t keep his grip on the table, letting his back hit the edge as he grabbed for the human’s shoulders and scored down his back with dull nails. His kisses were desperate and his body squeezed around his human’s cock, his own slapping against his stomach with each rough thrust. “I’ll be good.” He promised breathlessly. “You can have anything, Stiles. Everything.”

___

"Make you walk around in just your collar, crawl on your belly. Make you suck my dick and thank me for it. Put your greedy hole on display. You want that, Scotty? Want everyone to see me use you?" Stiles promised, words barely more than a snarl. His hands curled around the wolf’s throat, squeezing his tight as Stiles rammed in, punching the air out of him with each vicious thrust. He bore down like he wanted to rip his mate in two, heat pooling in his belly, spreading out across his skin, down his back where scratches left him raw and aching. All Stiles could think about was the delicious clutch of Scott’s body, slamming into him so hard, his back arched off the counter.

Stiles rasped for air, pulling out slowly, cock just kissing his mate’s stretched hole, smearing precum all over the aching rim. All the better to watch the way it clenched on nothing, the way Scott trembled in hungry anticipation. His grip tightened around the wolf’s pulse, until his cheeks darkened with blood and he couldn’t quite breathe. Stiles pressed the fingers of his other hand past Scott’s kiss-bruised mouth, filling him up from both ends with a needy whine.

"You should see yourself, Scott. So filthy. You’re a fucking mess. You’re mine. You’re all  _mine.”_ Stiles pushed back in all at once, burying himself to the hilt just to hear Scott scream. It was so good it hurt.

___

“Y-yes!” Scott’s cheeks burned with shame at the admission. There was no denying his reaction to the humiliation, inhaling sharply and keening. All Stiles had to do was ask and he’d get down on his hands and knees to display himself, even if there were others to watch. Especially if there were others to watch. Let them all know that he belonged to Stiles. There was a time he’d have hated knowing this desperate part of himself, all of his wants and needs were twisted into something weak by Peter. It was sick to want this kind of surrender, but Stiles always made him feel like submission didn’t mean that something was wrong with him. However his best friend had learned these tricks, Scott was always so grateful.

The wolf writhed as Stiles pulled back, unhappy to lose the feeling of being so full. He rocked against his human’s cock, rubbing his ass against the teasing touch with impatience. “Come on!” The rest of his demand was silenced as he choked on Stiles’s fingers, trying to suck each one as he struggled to breathe. The world started to spin, everything narrowed down into just the feel of the officer’s cock against his cleft, the ache in his own groin, the stretch as he swallowed around Stiles’s fingers and the drool running down his chin. When he was fucked, his body snapped like a live wire, everything coming apart at once.

He didn’t have time for a warning, eyes rolling back in his head as he came across his own chest in thick white spurts. A few slick drops splattered his chin and Stiles’s hand around his neck as the lack of oxygen heightened the intensity until the wolf’s vision whited out.

___

Stiles moaned softly, lost in overwhelming pleasure. Scott felt amazing, body quivering all around him, impossibly tight. His chest heaved, face flushed as he struggled to breath, mouth beautifully wrecked. Scott looked like sin, but he felt even better.

The detective smeared his fingers across his mate’s cheek, dragging him close so he could kiss him, open-mouthed and desperate. He fucked his mate through his orgasm, riding out the each wave of pleasure that left his mate panting for air. Stiles pulled his hands away, running them up and down his wolf’s trembling flank, smearing his spilled spunk over dark skin. All the better for Stiles to lick up. He chased his pleasure, his bucking in harsh, jack-rabbit thrusts, driving himself closer and closer to the edge. Scott’s limp, spent body clung to him, begging to be used, and when Stiles came, it was gasping into his mouth.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, trying to come back to himself, knees buckling and nerves singing. His fingers slipped between the wolf’s thighs, wiping a trickle of warm cum into his inner thigh. All Stiles could think about was how pretty he’d look, plugged and spread.

"I love you," the detective whispered, words warm against his mate’s ear. "Love you so much, Scotty." It took a few tries, but he waddled Scott into their bedroom, and when Scott came to, he’d be surrounded by warm sheets and cold take out.

___

Scott was boneless, all liquid limbs and passive. He felt completely at peace with a detached sort of ache and aftershocks of pleasure still jolting through his body. He was more grounded now than he’d been since he’d seen his father, giving up every worry and every clinging stress in exchange for the simplicity of submission. Everything always felt clearer when he bared his throat. There was a strength in surrendering and somehow, he felt more in control when he gave it to someone else.

He hummed in pleasure, wrapping himself around his human and nuzzling gracelessly as he was led into their bedroom. With a sigh of relief, Scott stretched back across their bed, burying his face into the sheets and slowly letting the world swim back into focus. His throat felt raw, swallowing hurt and he brought his fingertips up to explore the tender skin. The bruises would fade faster than he would have liked and he still felt lightheaded, like the bed was slowly pitching beneath him.

“Dude.” There were a thousand confessions of love in that single word. Scott took stock of his body, running his hands down lean muscle and scruffy hair to note every sore spot and every scrape. His skin was still slick with sweat and cum, he was going to have to shower before it started to dry, but he couldn’t seem to get his body to move. This was another one he might not share with the good doctor Tate. If he hadn’t been a wolf, Stiles’s wickedly nimble fingers could have done so much damage. Rapid healing definitely had its benefits. The corner of his mouth twitched, lazy crooked smile brightening his face as he preened, smug and sated. “Thank you.”

___

It always happened, whenever Scott took too long to reply, when the lights came on and Stiles could see everything he’d done, when the silence that filled the rest of their home started pressing in. Stiles couldn’t help but worry, wondering if he’d pushed too hard or done the wrong thing. He didn’t think he could hurt Scott, not with human hands certainly, but if he was responsible for dredging up the wrong sort of memories, then Stiles wouldn’t know what to do. He never really understood how hard he could hold, or how much damage he could do, but the detective loved running his hands over fading bruises, trying to remember where his fingers fit before the marks were gone.

Scott still had the brightest smile, and Stiles didn’t feel right until he could press it against his face. He grunted shamelessly, reaching over to shove a soggy french fry at his mate. Then all Stiles wanted to do was lick the salt off Scott’s lips.

"Anytime. I like your butt." He murmured, nuzzling his cheek against his best friend’s. Everything was lazy and slow, and maybe it had all been a distraction, but it was Stiles’s favorite distraction. Then he shoved a water bottle at his mate’s face, trying to make sure he was comfortable all over.

They were safe, even if Stiles knew it wouldn’t last. If he could keep Scott tucked against his side for a moment longer, he would take it.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing collaborative work/RP that has been fic-i-fied!
> 
> You can find Tmautog's awesome fics [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune's stuff [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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